My feet move on their accord across the dingy carpet, and before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m on his lap, wrapping my thin arms around his neck, and pulling him into my embrace. I half expect him to resist, to jerk out of my hold, and the fact that he doesn’t speaks volumes. Whatever happened while he was gone today must’ve really hit him hard, and rather than asking about it again, I shut my mouth and allow him to deal with it however he needs to.

“I was supposed to go to Chicago that day. It should’ve been me that died, not her. It should’ve been m-me.” His voice cracks as he nuzzles his face into my neck.

Offering solace the only way I know how, I squeeze Raze even tighter to me and soothingly thread my fingers through the short blonde hair at his nape. I don’t push. I don’t ask questions. My actions let him know I’m here if he wants to continue to talk. And even though I desperately wish I knew what happened, I know all too well that everyone has to face their demons on their own time, at their own pace. Some of mine I still leave locked away in the dark recesses of my mind.

“I still remember the first day I saw her,” he says after several minutes of silence. I relax my arms to allow him to lean back in the chair, our gazes locking. “It was right after we moved here, and my grandfather hosted a big party to welcome his youngest son—my dad—and the rest of our family to the States. I walked into that house full of people, and it was like I could only see her. Her beauty commanded my full attention. I knew I’d marry her before we ever said a word to each other.”

I smile at the thought of Raze as a love-struck teenager. I bet he was a great husband to his wife. “Hold that thought,” I blurt out as I jump off of his lap and head into the kitchen. Reaching up on my tiptoes, I grab the bottle of vodka from the top shelf in the cabinet, along with two small glasses. After I pour the potent liquor in each, I return to the table—opting for the chair next to him this time—and slide the glass with more to him. “Okay, now we’re ready. Tell me what happened after you saw her.”

Lifting the drink up in the air, he swirls the clear liquid around. His shoulders relax and the anguish slowly evaporates from his face. “Well, the first thing I did was ask my cousin and best friend, Alexei, whose daughter she was and if she had a boyfriend. If there’s two things you don’t do in my family, it’s fall in love with a rival’s daughter or another man’s woman. Both will get you dead pretty quickly.”

“So I take it she was single and of good bloodlines?”

“Yeah, she was definitely single,” he replies with a soft chuckle. “Her dad is the most feared man in the Bratva. We call him Palach, the Executioner. No sane male would get within fifty feet of her, fearing they’d have to answer to him first.”

He stops to take a swig of vodka and I mimic the motion. “But you weren’t scared of him?”

“Hell yeah, I was. How do you think I got this fucking terrible thing on my face?” he jests, pointing at his gnarly scar.

I blink hard and take another drink, smaller this time, as I wait for him to explain.

“I was a stupid, arrogant kid who thought with my dick first, heart second, and brain third. That night, I got her to sneak off with me into an empty room, and I kissed her and told her she was mine forever,” he continues with a faraway look in his eye, like he remembers every single thing about that moment. “She laughed at me, but the next week when I snuck in her room and claimed her properly, she knew she was too. We saw each other secretly for almost a year before her dad caught us together. Of course, it had to happen when I was butt-naked and pinning her against her bedroom wall with my cock, leaving me completely unarmed.”

“Oh, my God!” My hands fly to cover my open mouth. “What did you do? What did she do?”

Raze downs the rest of his drink then gets up to refill it before resuming the story. “The question you should ask is what did he do, because neither she nor I were in the position to do much of anything. You think you had a crazy father-in-law,” he shakes his head as he lowers himself into the seat, “but you have no idea what that word really means.”

“Okay.” I take the bait. “What did he do?”

“He jerked me away from her by my hair, splitting my scalp with the force he used, and put a knife to my throat. Then, in the calmest voice you can imagine, he asked Darya if she loved me and wanted to marry me. She answered yes, but before she could even finish the word, he moved the blade up to my temple and dug into the skin, dragging it down an inch or so. Then he asked her again if she still loved me and wanted to marry me. And again, she said yes, this time as she watched blood trickle down my cheek. So he carved a little bit more and asked a third time. Then a fourth and a fifth.” I’m not even sure he realizes it, but as he relives the story, he traces his fingertip over the red, jagged mark.

“To her credit, she didn’t flinch, cry, or beg even once while he did it. Instead, each time she answered, her voice grew more confident, more assertive, until she was practically screaming ‘Yes!’ Once he was convinced of her sincerity, he stopped and released me then kissed my cheeks—open wound and all—and welcomed me to the family. Six months later, we were married, and for anyone who ever asks me if it was worth it, I tell them all the exact same thing. I’d do it again a hundred out of a hundred times. She was worth every fucking second of it. I was a lucky son-of-a-bitch to be loved by a woman as incredible as Darya Stoliyaski.”

Now it’s my turn to take a gulp of the strong stuff, not sure if there’s even a proper response to a story like that. I’m not sure whether I’m more horrified at what he had to endure or impressed by the intensity of his love for her.

“That’s how he feels about you, ya know?” He tilts his head to the side and reaches out to place his large hand over my small one. The gesture is warm and heartfelt. “Though your boy, Madden, may be reckless and foolish, he does it because he loves you fiercely. He’ll take his chances marching up on Vincent Ricci’s home turf and allowing a crazy-looking fucker like me to blindfold and drive him to the middle of nowhere, knowing damn well he could be tortured or killed. But he’d rather die than be without you.”

“Is that how you feel? Would you rather be dead, now that you’re without her?” The questions tumble off the tip of my tongue before I think about what I’m asking, but instead of seeing grief or sorrow darken his striking blue eyes, I see a spark of something. Hope? An idea of some sort? I’m not sure what exactly, but it’s definitely something that brightens his thoughts and puts him in motion.

After briefly glancing down at the laptop pushed off to the side, he stands up and grabs both of our glasses, taking them to the sink. “It’s late, kotyonok, and you didn’t sleep much last night with your guest here. You need to get some rest. We’ve got busy days ahead of us.”

I don’t mention the fact he completely ignored my last question, seeing as how I basically asked if he had suicidal thoughts, but my ears perk up at his comment about busy days, reminding me of what he’d mentioned yesterday morning before he left to get Madden.

“Oh?” I question, following him into the kitchen. “Is there more news on the talks between Vincent and Anatoli?”

He turns to me with a tight-lipped smile. “Things are going as hoped. It should be soon, which is why it’s important for you to rest well. You take the bed. I’ve got some work to do out here.”

Nodding, I spin around on my heel and shuffle off, but right before I disappear into the bedroom, I twist and look at him over my shoulder. “For the record, Raze, I think she was the lucky one to be loved by a man as incredible as you.”